The aftermath of Hurricane Ike

Blown in the wind

Texas’s Gulf coast faces a long road to recovery

JAMES CLARK was not exactly surprised when Hurricane Ike swept across Galveston Island, destroying his camper and damaging his scrap of beach-front property. It was not the first hurricane to hit the Gulf coast of Texas, and not the first to hit him. “I lost my property in Carla in '61, in '83—what was that, Alicia?—and then again this time. But I'm 70, so I guess I probably won't ever learn,” he said.

Mr Clark kicked the carpeted floor of the island's stately convention centre. It was January 7th, and he had turned up for a public hearing on the region's recovery from Ike. Behind him, a wall of windows showed a thin strip of beach. Half a dozen dump trucks were beetling around with loads of supplemental sand. Nearby there were piles of debris and the skeletons of houses shredded by the storm.

Ike made landfall in Texas more than four months ago. Yet Galveston and the surrounding coastal towns are far from recovery. The main issue is money. On January 12th the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) released a report estimating that the damage to Texan homes, schools, roads and general infrastructure would reach tens of billions of dollars. Private insurance will cover some of that, but many homeowners are finding that they were covered only against damage by wind, not water. In any case, the state does not have the money to fix everything at once. On January 12th its comptroller warned legislators to expect a $9.1 billion revenue shortfall in 2010-11. Texas is waiting for federal aid. And that is slow in coming—though the Galveston County Recovery Fund reports receiving a personal cheque from Barack Obama.

In the meantime, Galveston's problems are multiplying. At the public hearing, legislators spent hours listening to tales of woe from all directions. One city official said that it was uncertain how many Galvestonians had returned to the island. Before the storm the city had 58,000 residents; based on water usage, perhaps 40% are still gone. This squares with a report from the school superintendent. Enrolment is down sharply and four schools are still closed. The city manager said that despite a hiring freeze and pay cuts, Galveston is almost desperate for money. The next step will be slashing services.

Perhaps the biggest question-mark is over the future of the University of Texas Medical Branch (UTMB), a hospital complex that includes a top-ranking trauma centre and medical school. Before the storm it was Galveston's biggest employer, with 12,500 workers. But UTMB sustained more than $1 billion-worth of damage and losses, with only $100m of it insured. With most of its operations halted since September, the hospital has been losing tens of millions of dollars each month.

On the day of the hearing the emergency room was empty, tarpaulins hung in some hallways and a small white boat was marooned in an adjoining parking lot. The hospital is known for serving uninsured and underinsured people, but Brian Zachariah, the director of emergency medicine, reckons that it will have to cut back on this. In another cost-cutting measure, 2,400 workers were laid off in November.

Some Galvestonians believe that the university's regents are not doing enough to help UTMB. For if the hospital falters, say islanders, it would be devastating for the local economy—a sort of second Ike, for people still struggling after the first.